


An Excellent Dancer

by hypersugarroxy



Series: APHRPW 2k14 [10]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 05:53:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4089418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypersugarroxy/pseuds/hypersugarroxy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erzsebet didn't owe anyone an explanation for their relationship. Though she might like one herself...</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Excellent Dancer

Erzsebet didn’t feel like she owed anyone an explanation to their relationship. What was their business was their business. And it secretly amused her to see the look on their faces when she told them she was seeing Mircea.

“The same one you knew as a kid?” Well, it wasn’t exactly a common name, was it? And even if it was, since she didn’t care much for those with the filthy language as their moniker, would she know that many?

“But...weren’t you constantly fighting?”

“Don’t you hate each other?”

“Don’t you still fight constantly?”

Truth be told, the answer to every one of those questions was a resounding “yes”. She usually just smiled and brushed the question off, no matter how many times it was dumped on her.

Another question she’d often hear was, aren’t there people on the planet she’d rather spend her time with?

She thought perhaps it should’ve been phrased differently. “Are there people on the planet who are more pleasant to be around?” The answer to that question was a firm “of course”. She had far more fun with Feliks than just about anyone, and whenever she could get Erika and Iryna together, they always managed to make a memorable night. Even Gilbert was someone she could get along with more easily than Mircea.

So why him? Erzsebet found herself asking that question over and over again. She always cave the same conclusion, though, and her answer never changed. “He’s an excellent dancer.”

Everyone took it to mean the same thing and dropped the subject. Erzsebet would just smile. Sure, he was good at that - as if she’d ever let him know. Dancing with Mircea was a dangerous undertaking, but she always obliged everytime he offered.

Setting up an old phonograph and just letting each other move in their arms. It started out normal enough. Every thirty seconds they’s switch the leader and let themselves get into the swing of the song. Then he would clench her shoulder just a bit too tightly, digging in his nails.

She retaliates; toes to the shin. He swings her too fast and she loses her footing. She goes into a spin and when she returns to his arms she brings her knee uncomfortably close to his “vital region”. They would waltz their way to the phonograph to switch the record’s side by this point, he reaching behind her, breathing in her ear in just the right way to make her skin crawl and her blood boil. She’d be paralyzed, frozen to the spot. He dragged it out as long as he could, finding just the right place for the needle to hit the wax. Then he’d begin to move her. As soon as she felt herself moving under her own power, she started plotting her takeover of the routine. Letting him think he won, and then taking back control when he didn’t see it coming. Though of late he was wising up to her.

It was nothing new. Nothing they weren’t used to. Their dance was much like how they went through life. Calculated. Precise. Vaguely antagonistic. On their feet until they couldn’t anymore.

She and he were locked in an eternal waltz, a dance keeping them focused on each other and on each others’ toes. Just when they thought they had the other figured out, they’d screw with the moves until they had the lead. There was much trodding upon toes, fingernails dug into shoulders, deliberate missing and adding of steps. Sabotaging each others’ moves.

There was the difference. Dancing with others was always a joint effort. They compromised for each other. They made it enjoyable. It was a lovely feeling, but it didn’t give Erzsebet the same… satisfaction, the same rush of the fight. Clawing her way to the precarious position of leader with a partner who didn’t care if she fell, as long as it was by his hand and his hand only.

Everyone outside thought Mircea only existed in Erzsebet’s life to tear her down. In that way, Erzsebet knew there was no one else she’d rather be with. Knowing someone was right there to destroy her pushed her to become her best. She felt most alive when he stood back and looked at her, that stupid canine tooth hanging out as he smiled at the woman too far out of his reach to throw back to Earth. She knew that same frustrated elation herself. If he understood even half of what she felt in the identical situation, the partnership was still worthwhile.

They don’t need to understand.

 

**Author's Note:**

> originally from tumblr. fill for aphrpw 2014.


End file.
